


6x12: Where It Begins

by nightbirdrises



Series: S6 Reaction Drabbles [11]
Category: Glee
Genre: Gen, Reaction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-20 14:47:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3654333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightbirdrises/pseuds/nightbirdrises
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt and Blaine, unaware of each other's existence or what is to come, examine what could be around the corner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	6x12: Where It Begins

**Author's Note:**

> Posted as part of a four-part reaction fic on [tumblr](http://princehummel.tumblr.com/post/115141236046). Please heed mentions of Finn & Kurt's headspace in the pilot/2009.

Being invisible is both a blessing and a curse, Kurt decides. Unfortunately, the benefits are wearing off with every minute more spent in the halls of McKinley, where those who wish they were invisible are targeted. Or at least, those who dare to look, act, or speak a little different.

Well. A little  _gay_.

Oh, who is he kidding? He knows what people think, and it just so happens to be accurate, but not because he’s fashionable and high-pitched - he’s gay because he’s gay, simple as that. Staying in the closet at least gives him a thin layer of protection, the ability to know that for all their talk, no one really  _knows_ him enough to fully use it against him. It’s not much, but it’s something.

Still, the entire charade is getting exhausting. Maybe it’s time for a change. He’s not ready to come out yet - what would his dad say? Kurt doesn’t want to lose him - but perhaps he could start letting his star shine. It’s true, in a way, what Rachel said. Stars must shine on their own. But many of the greatest stars have something in common: they belong to constellations.

“See you t-t-tomorrow, Kurt,” Tina says with a smile as she rolls an equally cheery Artie out of the auditorium. They’ve just finished the first rehearsal for Don’t Stop Believin’ and, for all his reservations, Kurt thinks that the others might have a point about Finn Hudson. It’s getting harder and harder to imagine the club without him and his slightly awkward charm.

Kurt still thinks they’re going to end up with a bunch of jocks and cheerleaders in the club now, but maybe that won’t be so bad. It’s funny - the thought of his tormentors invading this new part of his life should be terrifying, but… 

“Hey, Kurt, where are you going? Parking lot’s that way.”

“Oh, I… left something in the choir room,” Kurt says. He smiles. “Thanks again for coming back, Mr. Schue. The thought of Rachel leading us, it was a little scary.”

“I know what you mean,” Will says, shaking his head as he puts the sheet music Finn gave him into his bag. “Big voices have big personalities. I’ll see you at rehearsal tomorrow, yeah?”

“Of-of course,” Kurt says, suddenly realizing the quiet of his voice. He stands up straighter, speaks louder. “You can count on it.”

If he’s going to stand out among the big voices, he’ll need to work on bringing what he knows is inside of him out. He could be Patti LuPone, John Barrowman, Neil Patrick Harris. But he won’t; those positions are taken.

He’ll be Kurt Hummel instead.

Upon entering the choir room and turning on the lights, Kurt finds himself sobering from the high of rehearsal. Glee isn’t a fix-all solution - he still glances at those pamphlets when he walks by the guidance counselor’s office, a brief thought of… something. He doesn’t dare even think the word, but that doesn’t keep the thoughts from happening. The only thing that gives him hope is the fact that he’s happy. Truly, genuinely  _happy_. Not every second of every day (Kurt’s pretty sure that’s impossible), but far more than he’d been before.

Kurt makes his way to the piano bench and lies flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling and imagining that he can see stars up there. Six of them, arranged in their own little made-up constellation.

God, they’re all going to drive him insane, aren’t they? The club has only just started and it feels a little like he has experienced a month of excitement in a single week, which is sure to turn his hair grey decades too early if it continues like this. Not to mention it may all turn out to be for naught - you can’t win competitions with only six inexperienced members, and they certainly haven’t become magically popular enough to draw in more people. Glee club isn’t a football team, or the Cheerios. It could all fall apart with terrifying ease.

But it makes him happy. It makes all of them happy. With the possible exception of Finn (whose motive for joining the club Kurt hasn’t yet figured out), they all know what it’s like to be invisible. Sometimes it’s nice, it’s safe, but it’s not about being safe anymore. It’s about finding joy in life, in singing and dancing, in the camaraderie of a team. His dad might not think that the New Directions count as a real team, but Kurt knows better.

Kurt smiles, a great, wide, uninhibited grin for no one’s benefit but his own. This is his chance to turn himself around, to go from perusing pamphlets on self-destruction to finally,  _finally_ , being the confident, determined star of the stage that he knows exists within him. 

It’s a new beginning. He’ll be damned if he doesn’t try to take advantage of it.

 

* * *

 

Dalton Academy is, in simple terms, daunting. Blaine’s fresh off the public high school boat, and the giant hallways and magnificent paintings of this private school are as breathtaking as they are intimidating. (His favorite part, though, is the grand spiral staircase.) But unlike public school, the faces around here are friendly. Many of the students know at least his first name and the reason he’s here thanks to the local news, and many of them seem to want nothing more than for him to feel welcome in this new environment.

In fact, some of the students even praise him for his ability to move on from his past. They tell him he’s inspiring, a true Dalton man with a lion’s heart. Blaine appreciates the kind words, but it doesn’t feel much like moving forward. He has to complete his freshman year all over again here, where the curriculum, compared to his old school, is too different and far more intense for him to be able to continue on from last year. 

Aside from that, he hasn’t quite figured out how to  _belong_  here. It’s one thing to be accepted, but another to feel like you’re a part of something. He’d had that at his old school up until he made the decision to come out of the closet, a choice that quickly led to disaster. He doesn’t regret it, though; it feels good to finally have his sexuality out in the open, no matter the cost.

It’s just that he feels as alone here as he’s been feeling all summer and spring, ever since he was told, lying on his own bed for the first time since the incident and fuzzy with painkillers, that he wasn’t going back to that school.

“Hey Blaine! Good to see you,” says a guy, James, walking in the opposite direction down the hall who Blaine knows from his third period class. He smiles and accepts a high-five, startling slightly when James’ hand continues along its path to his butt. It’s not exactly appropriate private school decorum, but he’s not complaining; it’s a friendly gesture. Unfortunately for the part of him that thinks James is cute, Blaine has already found out that he’s straight. As an arrow.

He’s heard that exact phrase three times now.

Blaine doesn’t blame them or anything, but it doesn’t help his feelings of isolation in the slightest. If he had someone, a friend, who really understood what he has been through, or someone who could benefit from his experience, then maybe he wouldn’t feel so alone.

“It’s not a gay school,” he reminds himself under his breath. He can’t expect to suddenly find himself surrounded by an understanding community no matter how safe the space is. People like him here, they genuinely enjoy his presence. Shouldn’t that be enough?

“Blaine Anderson?”

“That’s me,” Blaine says, pausing at the door to his first period classroom. He looks at the speaker, who seems familiar along with his companion.

“I’m glad we could catch you before class. I’m Wes, and this is David. As two of the heads of the group, we’re approaching you on behalf of the Dalton Academy Warblers.”

“You’re… what?” Blaine asks, eyes widening. He’s heard of the school’s show choir, a group that has had considerable success in competitions with other private schools. The Warblers are fairly popular among the student body at Dalton as its members are some of the finest examples of the school’s values, and the club is as old as the school itself to boot. “Wow. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

David smiles, taking his cue from Wes to speak. “We’d like to invite you to audition, if you’re so inclined.”

“Really?” Blaine laughs, mostly out of disbelief. The Warblers, the equivalent of budding rockstars at Dalton, want him to audition. There wasn’t a show choir at his old school, but he has dabbled in enough performing at home and during middle school assemblies to know he loves doing it.

“Absolutely. Normally we don’t take on new members after open auditions in August, but the council has voted to make an exception.”

“We received a few video files in an email,” Wes says. “They appeared to be home videos, poorly shot, but none of us could doubt the potential you have as a performer.”

“The videos were sent anonymously,” David explains. “We have good reason to believe they’re of you, though. It’s the eyebrows.”

“Cooper,” Blaine mutters.

“I’m sorry?”

“Nothing. Uh, I would be honored to audition for the Warblers,” Blaine says excitedly. “When would you like me to come in?”

“Does tomorrow afternoon during your study period work for you?” David asks. Blaine stares; that gives him only a day to prepare. Normally he’d ask for more time, but the Warblers are a prestigious group and may not take well to such a request. He’ll have to give it his best shot.

He nods. “I’ll be there. Thank you so much for the opportunity.”

“We look forward to seeing what you bring to the table,” Wes says. “We’re looking to expand our horizons, and you just might be the kind of addition the Warblers need.”

After they leave, Blaine goes to his seat, still quite a bit early. He considers the idea of being accepted as a member of the Dalton Academy Warblers and can’t help the grin that takes over the politely interested expression he usually adopts for class.

He could be a part of something bigger than himself and do something he loves at the same time. In spite of a twinge of regret he feels at running away from his old school, he knows he’s safe here; if he joins the Warblers, he won’t be as alone, either. This might be exactly the thing he needs to finally feel like he’s making progress, starting over, beginning anew - all of the above.

As his class notes get taken over by a list of potential audition songs, Blaine daydreams of finding a friend who will understand what it’s like to be as scared as he was just half a year ago and not just sympathize with him.

The Warblers audition comes first, however. After all, who knows what being a part of something special like that could lead to?


End file.
